


For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear

by callme_barrelrider



Category: The Great Wall (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28475334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callme_barrelrider/pseuds/callme_barrelrider
Summary: This little story exists in an alternate universe where Pero Tovar is a chef. Reader is a pastry chef. The two of them spend New Year's together and things get a little spicy.
Relationships: Pero Tovar/Reader, Pero Tovar/You
Kudos: 12





	For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear

“Good morning, Chef.” You felt warm arms slide around your waist and morning stubble rest on your shoulder. 

“Good morning, Chef.” You turned your head to give him a peck on the cheek. “I’m almost done here and then you can have the kitchen again.” You liberated the last gold chocolate sphere from its mold. 

“No, hermosa, I don’t need your kitchen.” The Spaniard untangled himself from you as you went for the cake that was coming back to room temperature on the island. You ran the white fondant through the roller one more time before covering the small tier. 

“Do you want to help me decorate?” 

“No, cariño, you know what happened last time.” 

You stifled a laugh at the memory of him looking dejected and covered in frosting that had managed to explode out of the piping bag. You weren’t sure you wanted a repeat in your almost clean kitchen. He was a master at his craft, but he did not quite have the delicate touch needed for the intricate designs and perfectly fragile pastry you were known for. You started arranging the gold and silver spheres of different sizes, gluing them on with a small smear of simple syrup and doing your best to mimic the way champagne bubbles would scatter. Pero watched you with his half-smile for a moment in silence. This was his favorite thing- seeing his other half at work in her element. 

“Why are you baking for someone else again? Aren’t tonight and tomorrow supposed to be about setting the tone for your own rest of the year? I would like to see you doing that, not…this.” He gestured with his hand at all the things you had made, none of which were going to be consumed by the two of you tonight. 

“I have to make peace, you know that. This is how I do it. We can’t spend tomorrow with them like they want so badly but at least I can offer an olive branch.” He wrapped his arms around your back again and rested his chin on your head. 

“I know, hermosa. I know. But please tell me you’re at least going to make something for us for tonight.” 

“Hmm, I was thinking a baked brie? And maybe some of this.” You unwrapped yourself and went over to the cart you kept in the kitchen, uncovering some of the things you had already made, bread and champagne cupcakes. 

“Yes, chef.” He nodded at you and sat down on the counter to watch you finish the cake. 

***

You weaved yours fingers with his as you walked up the steps to your townhome. He had been stoic, eyes hard as he stood just behind you while you offered the cake and pastries to them. You were all wearing masks, staying a good distance away from each other. He didn’t like what you were doing, didn’t want you anywhere near these people that had caused you so much pain. But he went. He respected you, wanted you to be happy, but was still not sure why you insisted on trying to make peace. 

“Thank you, Tovar.” You squeezed his hand once, twice. “Want some help with the tapas for tonight?” 

“No, mi amor. I want you to go rest now. I’ll have everything ready; you just go now.” 

You nodded and hung up your coat. You made your way toward the bedroom, knowing he meant for you to bathe and put on something more comfortable than the crisp shirt and dress pants you wore. You pushed open the door and started getting out of your clothes, distracted by thoughts of Tovar and how you could have sworn he growled when your parents had taken your offering, voiced their thanks, and gone back inside. You dropped the clothes in the hamper and kept walking, clicking the light on in your bathroom, the sight that met you made your breath hitch. Sitting on the tub was your tray, laid with some of your favorite snacks and the book you had been working through for the last week. It wasn’t a lot, but you knew Tovar had been thinking of you when he did it. 

You ran the water, adding some Epsom salts and letting them dissolve before climbing in. You let the water cover you up to your nipples, keeping warm while you chewed on one of the snacks and read another chapter in the book. You let yourself be absorbed, let yourself float on the words and be whisked away to another universe. You sat and read and snacked until the water chilled; when a chill ran up your spine you knew it was time to climb out and get dressed again. You pulled the plug on the drain and started to dry off while you wandered into the closet, trying to decide what to wear. You thumbed through a drawer, finally settling on something you thought Tovar might like. You slipped on your robe and went out into the living area. 

You walked to the couch, but instead of stopping, went into the kitchen so you could watch him at work. He was chopping something while the scent of frying garlic and peppers floated to your nose in spite of the industrial downdraft. You could see the pan of rice waiting for plating and your mouth watered. You watched him in awe, the way he handled the knife bordering on lethal. You didn’t dare interrupt his flow. He would never yell at you, but he was in his element, his zone. That was a place that was sacred. 

Instead, since you had an idea of what you were eating, you quietly grabbed some silverware and took them to the table, setting places and going to wait in the living room. He would call you when dinner was ready. 

***

“God, baby I never want to cook again.” You never quite understood how he managed to make the flavors sing like this. He would say the same thing about your pastries, but you didn’t quite believe him. 

“You don’t have to. I would cook for you every single day if I could.”

“Could I interest you in some dessert?” You were halfway out of your chair when he tugged at you, changing your momentum so you ended up in his lap instead. 

“I can think of something far sweeter.” His eyes got impossibly darker as you maintained your eye contact. You thought you would catch on fire if you didn’t get closer to him. And closer you got.

You joined your lips together, wrapping your arms around his neck. You could taste the wine he had just drank lingering on his tongue. The notes popped as you squirmed in his lap, trying to find a way to get impossibly closer. He guided you up and backed you all the way through the house to your bedroom. He pushed you down onto the edge of the bed and untied your robe. 

“If I had known this is what you were hiding, that this was all you were wearing, we wouldn’t have made it through dinner.” He ran a finger down the delicate gold chain running between your breasts and looping around your back. He left the robe on your shoulders as he slipped his shirt off. A man of few words, he gave you another one of his half smiles before grabbing your legs and hooking them on his shoulders so there would be no getting away from him. Not one for wasting time, he laid his tongue against your vestibule and licked a flat stripe up to your clit. He sucked against it, with just enough pressure to get you to thread your fingers through his hair, but not enough to give you any real relief. He brought a finger up to your entrance, coaxing out enough of your wetness to coat his finger and ease the slide into you. 

You gasped as he teased you, only using one finger, barely applying the pressure you wanted on your clit, rubbing his stubble against you every once in a while. You tugged a little on his hair, silently begging him to give you what you needed, but he just laughed against you. The vibration made you whimper, and he pulled away, leaving his index finger buried in you but not moving. 

“What is it, hermosa?” 

“Please, Tovar!” He wrinkled his brow.

“Please what?” 

“Please don’t tease me,” you begged. 

“Oh, she wants to come, does she?” 

“Yes, baby, please!”

He went back to your clit, lapping at it and adding a second finger. He added more pressure with his tongue, started curling his fingers inside you, seeking out that one spot that could make you see stars. You grabbed his hair with both hands now, trying to get him closer to you, a whine building in your throat. You squirmed against him as you felt your orgasm starting to build, but he pressed his free hand into your hip.

“You wanted to come, hermosa? Then come you will, but you will hold still and take it.” 

His words came dangerously close to causing you unravel right then. He started humming against your pussy, adding the small vibrations to the combination of sensations already dragging you to the edge, and pushing you over the edge as you tugged at his hair and cried out. He lapped at you, taking everything you gave him, bringing you to the edge of it being too much before he lowered your legs and helped you move to lay against the pillows. 

You watched as he pulled his pants off, cock finally free, the head of it red and oozing precum. Your mouth watered at the sight of it, but he was covering your body with yours before you could move to take what you wanted. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on him, a heedy combination that made your head spin. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he reached down to rub the head of his cock against your clit, eliciting a small moan as you squirmed again, wanting him inside of you. 

“Do you know why I have so many pillows under you?”   
“No, why?” You were breathless already, making the question short and to the point. 

“Because I want you to see what I see every time I fuck you, how you stretch around me and take me so beautifully.” 

You keened as you looked down at where the head of his cock was resting at your entrance, not pushing just let. He was waiting for you. You nodded, wanting him inside of you more than air. Satisfied, he pushed in slowly, so slow you could feel every ridge and vein as it rubbed your walls opening you up for him. He was right. You weren’t sure how you did it, but your pussy took him like it was made for him. The sight took your breath away, watching him bury himself into you until you couldn’t quite tell where you ended, and he began. He paused a moment. 

“M—Move please, baby, I’m ready.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice, setting a slow but borderline brutal pace. While he pulled out slow enough that you could savor it, could whimper at the gradual loss of him, he also slammed back into you. The way you were positioned, it made it feel that much tighter. You threaded the fingers of one hand through his chest hair while the other made its way to your clit. You wanted to rub small circles, but he redirected them to just above your pubic bone, making you feel the way it bulged slightly as he fully seated himself inside of you. You left them there, letting him do the work and rub at your clit, gently guiding you back to the edge of another orgasm. 

“Are you going to come again for me?” 

“Yes, chef.” You couldn’t keep the epithet from falling from your lips, not when he was guiding you through what he wanted from you. He kept up the same movements at the heat of your release started to build again, spreading in from your toes and fingers until it coiled and burst, making a mess of your thighs, and pulling a swear from Tovar and he slammed into you faster you now. You clamped around him again as you felt his release coat your walls. 

He rested his arms on either side of your head and leaned down to capture your lips again. He went to slip out of you, but you held him in place. 

“What’s this?” 

“I—I want to stay like this. Want to keep you inside me until midnight.” You did your best to keep eye contact, but the heat making its way across your face and reality of asking for this when you thought he wanted to leave you, clean up made you look away; you would have buried your face in the crook of his neck if the positioning had allowed for it. He took your chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look at him. 

“Then stay like this we will.” He carefully helped you roll over so that he was still inside you, but you could rest on his chest. “I planned ahead to be in here at midnight while you were in the bath, so we don’t have to move at all until you are ready to.” He gestured at the two glasses and bucket of ice containing a bottle of cava, as well as a bowl of grapes. 

You laid your head on his chest, still holding his gaze. 

“Happy almost new year, Tovar.” 

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Feliz año, cariño.”


End file.
